An Undercover Assignment
by Pineapple1010
Summary: Sam and Spike get and undercover assignment from Greg and Ed, ... and things don't exactly go as planned.
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is my first fanfic post ever, so be nice. I know its short, but I just want to see what people think of it. More chapters to come.**

* * *

"Hey, Samtastic!" Spike exclaimed as Sam Braddock entered the training room.

"Spike!" Sam replied, giving Spike an affectionate pat on the back. Sam made his way across the training room to where Jules was. He walked around the treadmill she was running on so she could see him.

"Hey, Sam," she greeted him, getting off the treadmill. Jules motioned for Sam to join her in the hallway and gently placed her arms around his shoulders.

"I'm going to miss you, ya know," Jules said softly.

"I know," Sam gently replied, pulling her closer to him.

"But don't worry about me," he continued. "I'll have plenty of fun." Sam left the hallway, waiting till he was out of sight to break eye contact with Jules.

He met up with Spike in the briefing room. They were waiting for Greg, who had said before that he was sending them on a special assignment.

"What's up, boss?" Spike asked as Greg Parker walked into the briefing room after a couple of minutes, Ed Lane following not far behind.

"Well, Spike, Sam… how would you guys like an undercover assignment?" Greg asked, but gave a hint of meaning it as a statement.

"If you accept, the information we're about to tell you is classified, got it?" Ed chimed in.

"Well, of course we accept, right Samtastic?" Spike countered.

"Heck yeah, we accept! But just what is this undercover assignment?" said Sam.

"There is a gang who is suspected to be staging a huge gun-buy this weekend in Chicago. You two will be flying in and attempting to intercept these two men, Malcolm Harris and Preston Hill. We believe they are the men running the operation," Greg said as he showed pictures of the two men to Sam and Spike.

"Any more info on Harris or Hill?" asked Sam.

"Well, both have records, but nothing major. There is no known family we can contact from either of them, but we're trying to get as much information as possible," said Ed.

"We're expecting it to be easy, in and out quickly," said Greg.

"Well, okay then. When do we leave?" Spike said eagerly.

"If you're ready, we'd like you to leave this afternoon." Spike looked at Sam, and saw the same familiar look that he saw every time Sam was excited as heck.

"We're ready now," Sam and Spike said, almost simultaneously.

"Good. Get packing and your plane will meet you at the airport at 1:30 sharp," Ed said.

"Good luck men, and … be careful." Said Greg as he grabbed his things and left the room. As soon as he and Ed were out of the room, Spike and Sam shared a firm high five and smile and left to get ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, this chapter is A LOT longer, and I hope it's good. I don't know if you guys know how awesome it makes me feel to read reviews, so please give me your opinions! **

**Oh, and I meant to say this in the first chapter, but I'm sorry for the sucky title. I suck at title-writing. Enjoy!**

Aside from a few jokes, not much was said on the plane. Spike and Sam were too busy contemplating what exactly was ahead.

Other than what Greg and Ed had told them in the briefing room, they didn't have much information. Their game plan was to dress like civilians, (with bullet-proof vests on, of course) try to blend in, make contact, and observe. They were also told that if they saw an opportunity to take down either Harris or Hill, to take it.

Neither Spike nor Sam had been on an assignment quite like this before, but despite everything, they were stoked.

Sam had been listening to his iPod, ad Spike had fallen asleep trying to read a book. The pilot had recently made an announcement saying that they would land soon. Sam, unable to busy himself, decided to try and make some conversation with the pilot. He made his way to the front of the cabin and entered the cockpit. The pilot's head snapped around when Sam came in. "Anything you need, officer?' he asked.

"No, just…looking around, if that's okay," Sam replied, somewhat mesmerized by all the buttons, switches, and knobs, and only half registering the pilot's question.

"That's fine," the pilot said, turning his attention back to the control panels. Sam stepped farther into the cockpit to take a closer look and was startled by the door opening behind him. Sam instinctively spun around to face the open door.

"Hey Sam," said Spike, tired and sleepy eyed. "What ya doin' here, buddy?" he continued.

"Just taking a look around, Spike. You get a good sleep?" Sam asked.

"Wonderful. We landing soon?' Spike replied.

"Yeah. About two minutes, so buckle up," the pilot chimed in. Sam and Spike exited the cockpit and sat back down. They were both a little surprised, but pleased with the uneventful flight.

They both turned in around 10:00pm. Early for an SRU officer, but their work for today was done. They had done a lot of talking and planning about the day to come, and they were both pretty tired of it.

"Night, Spike," Sam said as he left Spike's room to go to his across the hall.

"Bye, Sam," Spike replied, shutting the door behind him.

When Spike woke up the next morning, he threw on some clothes and headed over to Sam's room; he had said that they would eat breakfast there. Spike used his card key and was surprised to find Sam awake, showered, and basically waiting for him.

"Oh, good morning, Spike," Sam greeted him.

"Have you been awake?" Spike questioned.

"Yeah, my dad, he used to have everyone in my house awake and ready like two hours before we had to go anywhere. It's a habit." Sam responded.

"Oh, no problem. I thought I was late," said Spike.

"No, you're good," Sam responded with a chuckle, turning away from Spike to grab some food for both of them. They sat down and quickly ate their meal, eager to get going. After they finished, they grabbed their gear, vests, and two guns with ammo refills, (just in case) and headed to their designated meeting spot in the alley.

Spike's job was to meet up with Harris, the 'brains' of the operation. Sam would cover Spike as he met with Harris, and once he thought it was under control, Sam would go after Hill. Now the only thing left to do was wait and watch.

About fifteen minutes later, Sam said "Got a visual on Harris."

"Where?" Spike asked in reply.

"Just turned the corner, heading towards you."

"Ok, Sam, I see him. Going in," Spike replied, stepping out from behind his cover.

"Alright, Spike, I got your back," Sam said through his headset.

Harris and Spike walked toward each other from each end of the alleyway. Harris was not a big man, contrary to his reputation. He had smoky brown hair, brown eyes, and a smaller build than Spike anticipated. He looked, by all standards, like a normal human being.

"You the guy I'm supposed to meet? For the goods?" Harris asked robotically.

"Yeah. I'm your guy," Spike replied steadily.

"Well then, you know what to do," he said, motioning to a man at the end of the alley, who was apparently waiting for his signal. The man rounded the corner with a large black chest, and from the way he was awkwardly carrying it, it was heavy. When he reached the other two men, his set it down and begun to open it. Spike heard something in his earpiece.

"Spike! That other man is Preston Hill!" Sam said urgently.

Spike discreetly looked over at where Sam was hiding, acknowledging his message and trying to telepathically tell him that he's got it under control, for now.

Hill begun to unlatch the chest and pull open the cover, revealing stack after stack of machine guns. He glanced up at Spike, and an unreadable expression suddenly swept over his face. It worried Spike. Harris stepped in and started to point out all the guns, and said something about everything on 'the list' being there.

"Sounds like this might be a ransom, Spike," said Sam.

Spike leaned in to 'inspect' the guns. "Looks good to—" Spike said, cut short by Hill pointing a revolver at his nose. He was struck speechless.

"Malcolm, th- this guy's a cop," Hill said shakily.

"What, how do you know?" responded Harris.

"Check under his shirt," said Hill. Harris pulled up the tail of Spike's t-shirt, revealing his vest underneath. Harris said nothing as a furious expression spread across his face and he punched Spike square in the jaw. Spike recoiled as his hand went up to his mouth.

"No, man, this isn't what you think!" Spike said desperately.

"Oh, really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure it's exactly what I think," Harris pointed to Spike's jaw. "That was for me trusting you. And it's not half of what we will do to you if you don't tell us how you know about this _right now,_" Harris motioned to Hill and he pressed the barrel of his gun up against Spike's forehead.

**Well, how did you like it? Any suggestions for chapters to come are GREATLY appreciated. Give the review box down there some love. **


	3. Chapter 3

**All right, here goes another chapter. Thank you all for the reviews and kind words. They really help me keep going but I'm having a hard time coming up with ideas for chapters 4 and 5 so please leave your suggestions in the review box. Thanks and Enjoy!**

* * *

"Ok, look, you don't have to do this," Spike said desperately.

"No. I—I don't want any of that crap. You tell us what you know and how you know it. _Now_." Hill replied.

"Look, man, if he's here, he's probably got others with him. We gotta get outta here," Harris said to Hill.

Hill glanced around the alley. "Yeah, you're right," he pointed his gun back at Spike. "Now, I'm gonna be nice, and give you one last chance. You tell us what you know or your police buddies, who probably have a sniper on us right now, are gonna watch me put a bullet in your skull. You understand?" he continued. Spike searched through his brain, unsuccessfully trying to come up with suitable words to say.

"So, that's your choice, huh?" Hill said, cocking his gun.

Meanwhile, Sam watched in shock, knowing that anything he said would be useless. He had been in way too many situations where a friend was in his care and helpless.

"Wait, Preston. We need him alive, right?" Harris questioned. Hill temporarily pulled the gun off of Spike's head. Sam took this opportunity to talk to Spike.

"Spike, get out of there, now," Sam said. Spike wanted desperately to do just that, but unfortunately that wasn't an option.

Hill placed his gaze back on Spike. "Unfortunately, he's right. I need you alive. So, change of plans. You tell us what you know, or you're coming with us." he said, motioning towards a van at the end of the alley.

"Running the license plate now," said Sam.

"No, look, I don't know anything other than that I was supposed to be here to meet you, honest," Spike said, almost truthfully.

"Alright, I've heard enough," said Harris, motioning to Hill who then grabbed Spike by the arm and pushed him towards the van. Spike shot a helpless look over at where Sam was.

"Don't worry, buddy, I'm coming for ya," Sam said desperately, not knowing if he could actually make that happen.

Hill dragged Spike towards the van, his revolver on his back. Suddenly, Spike swung his leg backward and kicked Hill in the stomach, a disarming maneuver he remembered from training. Unfortunately it didn't work. Spike grabbed at the gun, but Hill had too good a grip on it. The revolver went off, sending a 6mm bullet into Spike's left leg.

* * *

Harris spun around at the sound of the gunshot. "What'd you do?" he asked angrily.

"I- I don't know… I-I'm sorry," Hill said, dismayed and still holding the gun. Spike lay motionless on the round in front of them.

"Spike! Spike! C'mon, buddy, don't do this to me!" Sam yelled into the headset, not completely sure what to make of what had just happened,

"Ok, well, grab him before he wakes up. He'll live, but—" Harris pointed at Hill. "You're gonna wish you didn't do that." Harris lifted Spike under the arms and dragged him into the van. Sam watched in disbelief as they sped off with his friend, and decided to place a call.

"Sam? Is there a problem?" the voice on the other end of the line said.

"Hi boss. Umm, yes… kind of. They got Spike, boss, I couldn't do anything—it happened so fast, I—"

"Sam, Sam, calm down. It's okay. What happened?" Greg said.

"They saw Spike's vest and figured he was a cop. They were going to take him with them and Spike tried to disarm the guy but the gun went off and he got shot in the leg," Sam said hurriedly.

Greg couldn't believe what he was being told. It took all his will not to break down while talking to Sam, but he obviously needed Greg to be strong, and that's what he was good at. "Ok, Sam. That's good, then where did they go?"

"Umm…south. In a dark blue van, plate was yankee-charlie-alpha-5-7-8-bravo."

"Ok, Sam, we can track Spike's receiver. He'll be back here in no time," Greg said, trying not to sound as doubtful as he was.

"Thanks, boss. What do I do now?" Sam asked.

"Well, it would be best if you'd just wait in your hotel for us."

There was a pause before Sam spoke.

"Boss, can't I go after Spike? I saw which way he went," Sam pleaded.

"Sam, I'm not going to tell you no, because I know that would be useless. But I am going to tell that it's not going to be any easier on me or anyone if I have two missing officers. You got that?"

"Affirmative, boss. I'll be careful." Sam replied.

" Ok, Sam, go get our guy." Greg said, signing off.

* * *

The first thing Spike saw as he came to was the back of a car seat. It took him what seemed like forever to figure out exactly where he was and why. When the van hit a pothole and sent a shudder of pain through his body, he remembered. Spike gathered all of his strength and attempted to pull himself up against the side of he van in a sitting position. He glanced up towards the front of the van. Harris and Hill were obviously having a somewhat spirited conversation, but Spike was still too dazed to make anything out. He only heard bits and pieces of it, struggling to stay attentive. The van swerved and Spike was throw into the side, aggravating his injury and forcing him to cry out. Harris immediately turned around in his seat.

"Well, well," he said coldly. "Look who's awake, eh?" he glance at Spike's injury. "Preston, why don't you pull over so we can attend to our guest. Look's like he's lost a fair amount of blood."

"I can't. Not here," he replied.

"Well, why not? There's a shoulder, ain't there?"

"Yes, but there's a police station off this exit." he pointed to Spike. "His police buddies probably have a tracker on him already."

" Good thinking, Preston," Harris paused. " Well, we're going to have to ditch his gear then, aren't we?"

"Yeah, about time," Hill responded. They pulled the van over, and Harris jumped out. He came around the back and opened the doors. As Harris pulled Spike towards him and started to unzip his vest and transmitter, Spike realized that there was nothing in the world he hated more than being helpless. If he could, he would have given Harris what was coming to him, most likely a harsh beating. But Spike was too weak. He couldn't bring himself to lift his head up, let alone fight back. He reluctantly gave in to the blood loss and drifted off.

* * *

**Well, this chapter is a little shorter, but I wanted to get something up today, and I've been working on some other stories. Anyway, please feed the review box and I'll see u again soon.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for all the suggestions and reviews. Sorry this took so long, I was really busy with school and all that.**

**Spring break is quickly approaching, and I'll have more time to update both of my stories then.**  
**Also, I feel the need to say that anyone who is looking for a good book to read, I have stumbled upon the best book ever (in my humble opinion). It's called The Maze Runner by James Dashner. It's a trilogy,but the fist one amazed me so much I felt obligated to say that I love it. Anyway, Enjoy!**

* * *

Harris ripped off Spike's vest and threw it to the side of the road after crushing the transmitter. He climbed back into the van and started it up.

"So where now?" Hill asked.

"Safe house. I have a buddy there- he owes me," Harris glanced at Spike, unconscious in the back of the van. "And he's a doctor."

"Wait, you wanna help that guy? He's a cop!" Hill protested. Harris grabbed Hill by the shirt and pulled him roughly to his face.

"Well, you prefer to get charged with murder? Of a cop?!" Harris responded furiously.

"Alright, alright," Hill said, backing off.

"Good," Harris said. "Now let's go."

"Where exactly are we going?" Asked Hill.

"All you need to know right now is go straight, got it?"

Hill responded with a sigh, resigning. "Got it."

* * *

Sam grabbed some things and quickly jumped in his car; he was not intent on losing any more time. Once inside, he clicked his headset on to resume communications with Greg.

"You get a lock on Spike's signal yet, boss?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, Sam. Keep heading south. Looks like they took the freeway, but the signal drops off near exit 15," Greg responded.

"Ok thanks, boss. I'll check it out."

"Alright, but check in after 20 minutes, tops," Greg said, hoping none of his anxiety was evident in his voice.

"Got it."

Sam revved up the van, flipping on his lights and pulling ahead of the other cars. He was determined to find Spike, if for no other reason than the fact that Spike would do the same for him without a second thought.

He continued along the path Spike's transmitter had left like a rabbit following breadcrumbs until he came to the spot where the signal had been cut off.

"Boss, I'm at exit 15. I don't think they stopped here, they might have just gotten rid of Spike's transponder," he said.

"Why wouldn't they stop there?" Asked Greg in return.

"There's a police station right off this exit, boss."

"Well, either they're trying to be clever, or they are farther along then we thought."

"What now? There's no protocol for this," Sam asked.

'Sam and his protocol,' Greg thought. "Spike would probably have a good answer for that. I'll ask Winnie to check traffic cams for a license plate match."

"Ok, boss. I'm gonna keep going on the freeway for now," said Sam.

"Alright, I'll keep you updated."

* * *

Spike had found another thing to add to his list of most-hated things. Confusion. And for that to be the first thing he felt when he woke up was sheer agony. Aside from the actual agony.

He tried desperately, without success, to pull out some meaningful bits and pieces of his memory from the spinning whirlpool inside his head. He couldn't make sense of it all. The bumping and rocking of the van was a constant reminder that he was not waking up in his bed, in his house (well, his mom's house), nor was it a normal day. Slowly but surely Spike put two and two together to form a gap-y memory of recent events. He could remember he was with Sam, something went wrong, he obviously got hurt, and was now being taken somewhere. "Good 'nuff for me," he thought.  
He did know that the people he was with were not idiots, and probably cut off any connections he might still have with Sam. Or anybody, for that matter. So he immediately decided he would have to get a message to Sam. As usual, the how took a little bit longer to figure out.

A short time later, the van pulled into what looked like an empty lot. No, not empty. If he squinted hard enough, he could see the giant warehouse-type structure lurking at the back of the lot. The van creeped ever closer, giving Spike an uneasy feeling. When they reached the main door, Harris jumped out of the passenger door and walked around to the back. He glanced at Spike, noticing he was was awake.

"Well, I'm guessing you can't walk, huh?" He said, more to himself than Spike. He waved Hill over to his side, and together they lifted Spike out of the van and Harris slumped him over his shoulder. Spike felt more angry than helpless, now.  
Harris carried Spike into the building, showing some sort of ID to a man outside. The warehouse looked like exactly that, a warehouse. There were several 'rooms' he could see, separated by corrugated metal walls. It seemed to go on forever, endless rows of these 'rooms'. As they walked by, from what Spike could see each room was filled with stack upon stack of guns.

"This must be where they operate from," Spike thought.

They finally came to a stop, and Harris laid Spike down, not exactly gently, on a white table in the corner of the room. This room wasn't filled with guns, but had two small desks on either side of the room. It was quite peculiar, the room was nearly empty, and mostly spotless, except for the two desks - which had papers strewn over them, and this table.

A middle-aged man with grey-brown hair and a perfect posture walked in. Spike noticed that he was probably expecting them, and seemed to be a personal friend of his present company.

"Ok, you know what to do. Fix him up," Harris said to the man.

"What happened? This is pretty bad," the man asked, examining Spike's wound.

"Just do your job, old man," Hill responded coldly.

"Alright, but you're going to need to leave."

Harris pondered the thought of the doctor, his friend, pulling a trick on him and decided he was wrong. "Ok, but no funny buisness."

"Malcolm, c'mon. It's me!" he responded.

Harris and Hill left the room.

About an hour later, the doctor peeked his head out of the room and waved Harris and Hill back in.

"I got the bullet out, but he's not exactly fine. He's-"

"Will he live?" interrupted Hill.

"Yes."

"Okay then," Harris glanced at Hill. "I believe we have to get going then. When is he gonna wake up?"

"Soon. But I could get him up sooner if need. Just don't ask how," said the doctor.

"Do it," said Harris.

* * *

This time when Spike came to, he immediately knew where he was and why. He also instantly remembered that message he was suppossed to get to Sam. ASAP. He spun his legs off the table he was laid on and gingerly tried to stand up. Pain shot through his left leg almost faster than the actual bullet. It was almost unbearable. Almost. He knew he could deal with it if the situation demanded, but right now the situation was telling him to sit down. He practically collapsed in a heap next to the table, reaching into his pocket. Nope, no phone. He tried his other pockets. They had stripped him of anything putting out any type of signal. But it would take a lot more to stop this 'geek with combat skills' from accomplishing his task. He crept over to a computer sitting on one of the desks. Surprisingly, it wasn't password-protected.  
"They must not expect company often," he thought.

He was in the middle of setting up a signal when the door swung open and Harris strode in. It took him a fraction of a second to realize what Spike was doing.

"Hey! What exactly do you think you're doin'?!" He shouted furiously, grabbing Spike and pulling him onto his feet, sending a slice of pain through his leg. Spike winced.

"Oh, that hurts, does it? Answer my question!"

Spike didn't really want to remain silent like a stubborn suspect, but he truly could not come up with something to say. He didn't think 'I was trying to get a message to my friend so he could come beat you guys up and hand you over to the court' would go over so well.

"No? Need some incentive?" Harris said, and kicked Spike in his left shin, sending him plummeting to the ground. Spike's head was spinning all over again. At least he had been able to set up a signal that would show up on his team's radar.

* * *

"Sam, Winnie just ran that license plate. It's a fake," said Greg over Sam's headset.

"Dang it!" Sam responded.

"We'll keep checking for the van. Meanwhile- wait, something just popped up."

"What kind of thing?" Sam asked.

"There's a blip on our radar, close to you. It just showed up."

"Think it's Spike? Who else would know the frequency?"

"No one. It might just be Spike," Greg paused. "Sam, the code on the blip is 1033."

"Officer in need of assistance?"

"Yep."

"I'm on it, you direct me."

* * *

**Huge thanks to Buckeye Am I, Cat414, and a bunch of Guests for suggestions for this chapter. Please keep them coming! Review to find out what happens next. **  
**Also, for this chapter, write a short scene and post it in the comments. On Wednesday, I will pick a favorite and write a Sam and Spike oneshot dedicated to that user. Happy writing!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, my first story is almost coming to a close. I'm trying desperately not to rush these last one or two chapters because I really want them to be good, but that might take we a while so hang tight.**

**The Sam and Spike oneshot is dedicated to Samaholic *arm movement and cheer* so far. Hers is the only one I got, so if I get another brief scene between Easter and Tuesday, I will take it into consideration. I'm probably going to change the oneshot into an actual story; it is already in the works. Anyway, sorry this took so long and enjoy!**

* * *

Spike was not having a very good weekend. He was currently handcuffed roughly to a table across the room from Malcolm Harris and Preston Hill. He had figured out quickly that he would not be able to pull a 'James Bond' and wriggle his way out of the handcuffs. All that experiment had earned Spike were some nasty bruises on his wrists. So, with no other options, he resigned himself to listening to the conversation between Harris and Hill. It was clear who was 'in charge', Harris. He regarded himself as the boss, and did not like anyone to contradict him. Hill was the 'henchman' the one who probably did most of the dirty work, and he wasn't very intelligent from what Spike could tell. He couldn't make out very much, but the pair seemed to be having a discussion about another gun-buy.

'Wow, these guys don't learn,' thought Spike.

Too tired to concentrate, Spike looked around for a possible exit plan, hoping desperately that someone had recieved his signal. His mistake was letting himself rest. He hadn't gotten any sleep since about a day ago, minus the part when he blacked out. Spike soon drifted off, the day no longer anything but a blur.

* * *

When Spike awoke, his groggy mind was filled with shouts and yelling, snapping him awake. His eyes darted around the room, looking for the source of the yelling, almost disappointed to find it was none other than the same two men he had been in the company of for the last 20 hours. He rubbed his eyes and could see that nothing much had changed since he went to sleep. Knowing he should probably not go back to sleep, Spike tried to shift himself to be in more of a sitting-up position.

That's when he saw it.

It wasn't very big, but Spike knew his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. There was a small skylight looking into the room he was in, and if he strained his neck just enough, Spike could see why there was no light coming in through it. He was indescribably relived to see none other than Ed Lane perched on the roof, sniper in hand, obviously aiming at Harris. Spike barely had time to asses the situation before he was thrown back against the table with a blast, the room filling with smoke. It made it hard to breathe...

_"On the ground now!"_

Spike struggled to see through the thick smoke, not thinking straight...

_"Police! Get down now!"_

'What was that explosion? C4 maybe? Who is that?'...

_"SRU! Don't do it! On the ground!"_

At last, the smoke started to clear, but Spike couldn't hear the voice anymore. It sounded familiar...

"Sam!" Spike shouted when at last he saw who the grey figure was. But his spirits dropped when he could see why he couldn't hear Sam anymore. Hill was on the ground in cuffs, but Harris was pointing a gun at Sam's head.

Sam knew that negotiating wasn't an option with this one. Harris was going away for sure, for a long time, and didn't appear to have much to lose. So he tried a different tactic.

"Look, Malcolm, all your guys out there," he motioned to the rest of the warehouse, "have all been taken into custody. It's done! You can't do this."

"Really? Can't I? It would be so easy... how do you know my name?"

"C'mon. Put the gun down, okay?"

"No," Malcolm said, and with two quick bullets he killed Sam and Spike.

The End

* * *

APRIL FOOLS! Here's how it really went:

* * *

"C'mon. Put the gun down, okay?"

"No," Harris said, bringing the gun back up from his side.

Suddenly, Sam charged at Harris, effectively knocking the gun out of his hands and sending it clattering to the ground, but not before Harris could take advantage of him, delivering a swift punch to Sam's jaw. He fell back onto the ground, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Harris leave the room running. He tried to get back up to chase him down when he remembered Spike.

"Sam! Are you OK?" Spike said when Sam kneeled down by him.

"Don't worry about me, buddy. How's that leg?"

"I'm fine, we've got to get him! He went to the roof, I think," said Spike.

Sam considered this. "Ok, but you take it easy and wait here, okay?"

"No way! I'm coming with you."

"Well, let's go then, Scarlatti!" Sam said; he had known Spike for too long to think that reasoning with him would do any good.

The two ran...well, Spike more hobbled... after Harris, climbing the stairs swiftly. They arrived at the roof just in time to see Harris come to the edge, nowhere to go. He was looking down at the ground below.

"Is he gonna jump?" Spike questioned softly.

"Don't know.." Sam replied, focused on Harris, inching closer.

"Don't come any closer!" He yelled at Sam, who didn't back off much.

"Malcolm, what are you doing?" Spike asked.

"You're not gonna jump," said Sam.

"Well, I don't have much to lose, do I? I have a wife, and- and two daughters...beautiful...they're beautiful. They can't know me like this!"

"Do you want them to know you as the man who gave in to fear? 'Cause that's what you're doing here," Sam said, now mere inches from Harris.

"You shut up!" Screamed Harris, spinning around and grabbing Sam by the coat and pulling him over the edge of the building.

* * *

**Wow. That chapter was really hard to write. It's a bit shorter than my others, but Sam needed to get there. Happy Easter everyone! Congrats Samaholic! Reviews are love guys! Spread the love!**


	6. Chapter 6

**First of all, this is not a normal thing. I usually update right away. There is really no good reason for why this took so long to post, so I'm not going to waste your time and give you excuses. Point is, my life is way too busy. But anyway, here goes my first ever attempt at an end to a story. Literally nothing I've ever written, on this site or not, has ever been finished. So, enjoy!**

* * *

Spike was frozen. Catagorically frozen in place, staring straight ahead. He didn't want to look down, not at all. It was all he could manage to try and keep disturbing images from his head. His legs almost collapsed under him. His mouth agape, Spike planted his gaze on Harris. His eyes were cold, Spike not noticing any remorse, or regret, or... anything.  
Spike caught a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and scooted closer to the edge of the building.

Nothing. There was nothing. Just the alley below, no Sam. Spike decided to find out where he was, and limped  
away from the edge.  
As Spike headed for the door to the stairway, Harris spun on his heels and delivered a swift punch to Spike's stomach. Struck by surprise, Spike fell to his knees and gasped for air. Harris grabbed Spike by the coat and dragged him to his feet. Spike grimaced at the pain in his leg as Harris tugged him back over to the edge.

Dazed, all Spike could muster was, "W-what? Why?-" he was cut short by Harris giving him a small shove, almost sending him plummeting down the side. Spike was now turned around, his back facing the unforgiving pavement below. His heart was racing, and he was sure Harris could hear him breathing.  
Spike decided to try and fight back once his head cleared, and thrust the heel of his foot backward, discouraged when he didnt make contact. All it earned him was being shoved farther over the edge, so that all Harris had to do was let go of him, and he would fall to his... Spike didnt want to think about it.

"What are you doing, man?" Spike cried out, more of a desperate plea than an attempt to negotiate.

"I'm already gonna be locked up for life, what's this to me?" Harris said through clenched teeth.

"But why? You can't just-just kill me! Why?"

Harris opened his mouth to respond, but seemed to decide not to say anything. He paused for a second, then released his grip on Spike's jacket.

Spike had been planning in his mind what to do, and he executed his plan perfectly. As soon as Harris let go of him, he wipped his body around so that he was now facing the wall. He almost lost his grip, but managed to get one arm on the side of the building, keeping him from his death. He looked up at Harris, who seemed to be too despondent to notice at the moment. He was sitting on the ground, head in hands, facing away from Spike.  
That's when he saw it.  
Just below where he was hanging, Spike could see a small ledge, leading to a spot cut away from the building. It was a stretch, but if he aimed it right he would probably be able to land on the little ledge without getting too badly hurt. Spike shifted his weight onto his other arm with a small grunt. This was enough to wake Harris from his stupor, snapping him back to reality. He quickly noticed that Spike was all but dead, and started coming towards the wall. Spike swung his body a couple times to get some momentum, then pushed off from the wall just as Harris reached for his from behind. He readied himself for the impact, but soon realized that although this fall was better than hitting the ground, it was still over a story below him. The ledge came up to meet him quicker than anticipated, and on impact sent a shock of pain through his shins. The rest of his body crumpled down on top of him, leaving him in a heap on the side of the wall.  
Spike gave himself a second to asses how bad he was hurt, check his surroundings, and give himself a pat on the back for... surviving. But it didn't last long- Harris had taken out a gun and started shooting at Spike.

"Boy, this dude never quits", Spike thought.

Spike dogged the bullets and rolled himself from the ledge to inside the building. Sitting there, back propped up against the wall, was Sam. He had a banged up arm and leg, along with some cuts and scrapes, but he was alive. Very much so.

"Sam!" Spike exclaimed upon seeing his friend.

"Spike!" Sam said, somewhat forcefully. "Was starting to think you'd left me here."

"No way, Samtastic. How 'bout we get the hell out of here, hmm?"

"Sounds great."

Spike and Sam helped each other up and each put an arm behind the others back. They found an exit and high tailed it out of the warehouse. In the front of it, they found the rest of the SRU crew. Once Ed spotted them, he shouted to the rest, who began cheering.

"Spike, you are so fired," Greg said cheerfully, "I'll kill you myself the next time you almost get killed."

"Thanks, boss," Spike joked back.

Once all the greetings were said, Sam and Spike were packed into an ambulance and shipped off to the hospital.

On the way, Sam said, "Well, buddy, I-I'm really sorry about how I didn't cover you back there. I shoulda had your back, man."  
"Sam, seriously, shut up. Just shut up. Your the best undercover partner ever, dude. So shut up."

"Will do."

**THE END**

* * *

**Jeez! Wow! I can't believe I finished this story. How many chapters has it been? Jeez. **  
**Suggestions for future stories are GREATLY appreciated, as well as ANYTHING you have to say about this one. The short story I promised Samaholic is still coming, I promise. I wanted to make it perfect before posting it, but should have it up soon-ish. So, thanks SO MUCH to everyone who has been following since Chapter 1, and God Bless! I am going to go to bed now.**


End file.
